where could that girl have gone
by embidedbythesand
Summary: She was made of porcelain, but she was his rock, and perhaps one of the strongest toys Woody knew. Stronger than the cowboy thought because it was her who decided it was time for her to leave. (Post TS2, Pre TS3, Possible TS4 spoilers)


**I thought of this as soon as I read the updated synopsis for the upcoming movie. A brief flashback was implied to be in the film and I couldn't resist. I was also inspired by someone (commandervisor) who made a tumblr post regarding the info and I thought to write about Woody's thought during and after her leavin with the same basic idea this person had. Reviews, suggestions, and predictions, of all kinds are always welcome !**

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_Tick  
Tock  
Tick  
Tock_

The room was silent minus the clock on the wall. The sheriff had noticed earlier that it was no longer the Mickey Mouse clock his owner had before, he supposed it's been there for quite some time now, he hadn't been around to see it. He hadn't been around much to even hear it. Now, it was all he could hear.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick_

_Tock_

He couldn't quite make out the time it read in the dark, but he reckoned it had to be after midnight. Andy was sprawled out on his bed, out like a light. The others were asleep in the chest; that's where they spent most of their time nowadays. It's where he'd sneak out of at about this time, silently crack open the window and crawl out and climb to the window of the attic where his shepherdess spent _her_ time.

But now she was gone. And he was stuck spending his nights in the dark bedroom, his only company being the clock.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick_

_Tock_

Woody was far from alone; he still had a vast majority of his family, albeit, it was smaller now, and only getting smaller. But still, he wasn't alone. But that's what he _felt_ like.

That's what losing her felt like.

To the others, Bo Peep was just Bo, calm and collected, sassy but kind, the _delicate_ damsel in distress. But to him, she was so much more than that. She was _his_ Bo, always there to help him when he was too stubborn to ask for it on his own, she listened to him and was good at giving comfort and advice when both were needed, she not only made him feel important, she taught him empathy, helped him open up, kept him from being such a stick in the mud. And he would be lying if he said he was glad she never did find that less painful way of getting his attention.

She was made of porcelain, but she was his rock, and perhaps one of the strongest toys Woody knew.

Stronger than the cowboy thought, because it was _her_ who decided it was time for her to leave.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick_

_Tock_

Bo Peep had been in the attic for 521 days. Molly had just turned ten and decided she was too old for her "silly baby lamp", but neither her nor Mom, or even Andy had the heart to sell it, it held too much nostalgia, and it was a gift from their late grandmother. And so she was stored in the attic (only to be forgotten).

But not by Woody of course.

Even some of the gang would come up to see her on occasion, namely Jessie (the two developed a surprisingly strong friendship), but as time wore on and there was less time to do so, soon, only her beau would come up. Every night for 521 days, Woody came up to see her, to talk to her, some nights he'd be with her until the sun came up.

But Bo decided it was both too much and not enough.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick_

_Tock_

Woody probably shouldn't have been as surprised as he was when she told him she was going out on her own. Every night that the sheriff would come up to the attic they would sit on the window sill and look at the stars, and the world around them. She would always talk about how _great_ it would be to go out and see it for themselves. To travel to new places, meet new toys, and not have to dread a child growing up on them (which Woody would shake his head at). Even when Andy was in his youth, he knew she longed for it.

And then she decided it was time to do it.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick_

_Tock_

Of course, Woody tried to talk her out of it, even resorting to _begging _her not to go. When she asked why, he pulled out every reason he could possibly think of, even using her porcelain frame against her, which she always resented. And yet, she wouldn't budge. When it was his turn to ask her why, why she couldn't just _wait_, why she didn't _want_ to wait, she said, "_Wait for _what_?"_

Woody felt as though his voice box was ripped from his chest.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick_

_Tock_

She was right. It was the truth, and that's what saddened the rag doll. The truth hurt so much it almost made him angry. She was right that she wasn't meant to be kept in a cold dark attic practically _alone_ just desperately, and almost hopelessly waiting to be needed by a person again. She was meant to be free and on her own with no restraints - not even her own fragile 'skin'.

She never did like being the damsel in distress very much. But she loved _him_. And he sure did love _her_. So much they even thought about going together, but logic and responsibility stopped those thoughts as quickly as they started.

Not only was Woody still (albeit vaguely) needed by Andy, the others needed him too. He was their leader, he kept everyone in check, calmed their worries and fulfilled his duty to ensure no toy got sold, left behind, or forgotten. He couldn't just _leave_.

But he needed _her_. But it wasn't enough to make her stay. The selfish part of him wished it was.

But he could never bring himself to ever restrain her that way.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick_

_Tock_

And so for the rest of that night, the two just sat on the window sill and looked up at the stars. Neither said a word, but both clutched to each other hands to much they thought hers would snap off.

The following night, when the neighborhood was still, he wished her well, made a half-hearted joke to not lose her sheep (he wouldn't be there to help her find them), kissed her cheek and saw her off.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick_

_Tock_

That was 17 days ago, and it still hurt just as bad as it did the day she left. It was so sudden and so hard to believe that for the first few nights afterwards, he would still go up there. He would have a few minutes of bliss while making his way up there, before being greeted by a dark empty room filled with boxes, and the anticipation in his chest would dissolve into the now familiar ache in his chest. Now, it was all he felt.

He was shutting down. Everyone around him knew it, he knew it, but he was too far gone to care. Buzz and even Jessie were desperately trying to keep what little there was in order while trying to keep _him_ in order, from falling too deep in the depression he was in, but it was in vain. He didn't speak to anybody, he didn't read, or play checkers or cards or arrange staff meetings. And he certainly didn't sleep at night, but whether it was due to habit or the grief, he wasn't sure.

All he could do at this point was lay on Andy's bedroom floor, listening to the ticking.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick_

_Tock_

The sheriff almost wanted to resent Molly for growing up. Mom for putting _his_ Bo up in the attic.

Andy and the others for giving him a reason to stay. Her for leaving. Himself for not.

But Woody knew there was no use trying to pin the blame for circumstances that were beyond everyone's control. He knew he shouldn't bury his hurt and fears under layers of resentment like he used to. _She_ taught him that.

But now she was gone.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick_

_Tock_

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the glow of the moon shine in through the window, and sat up and looked at it.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick_

_Tock_

He hoped, wherever she was by now, she was looking at it too.


End file.
